Page 124 of Never Never

“He’s Hook’s,” I interrupt. “His fucking bodyguard, or something—he’s⁠—”

My mind is spinning, images and names and the events of the past few days of my life knocking against each other and trying to emerge in a pattern. Because this doesn’t make sense, this doesn’t—why would he⁠—

Then Nana yips, and Blue’s head swivels. Tink steps toward Wendy.

Because we all hear it. Footsteps on the stairs.

I put my hand behind my back, on my waistband.

Just in case. Just in time.

Because five seconds later, he’s in the doorway.

Hook.

“Step away from my daughter,” he says.

The room goes dead.

I look at Tink. Immediately. Instinctively. I both want to jump in front of her like a human shield and give her space to do…whatever she’s about to do.

But Tink’s not looking at me. Tink’s gone completely still, her hand flat on Wendy’s back, staring at this guy, this pathetic excuse for a man with no tie or suit jacket and a dish towel in his hands.

“Michelangelo Darling,” Tink says.

Hook lowers the towel.

“That’s you, isn’t it?” she goes on. Voice clear and sharp as a shard of glass. “On the registry. It was never Mike. It was⁠—”

She glances down at Wendy. At Nana.

More silence.

“Michael was my son,” Hook says at last.

“And JD⁠—”

“John.” He sets the towel down on Wendy’s dresser. “Yes.”

“They were your sons,” Tink says. “Both of them.”

Hook makes a sound that’s between a grunt and a laugh. “Were they?” he murmurs. Beneath Blue’s knee, his bodyguard gives a short groan, and Hook glares at Blue. “Get up,” he barks. “Off.”

To my surprise, Blue does. Palms in the air. The bodyguard wheezes, and does a lame kind of push-up thing to get to his feet as Hook fixes him with a poisonous look that makes me wonder if this guy’s going to be next to lose some fingers.

Then he’s back on Tink. “Get your hands off my daughter,” he says coolly. “If you leave now⁠—”

“Did you do it?”

Wendy.

She’s stepped out from under Tink’s arm, all on her own. Chin trembling, fists balled. Seeing her, Hook softens, and it’s disgusting—it’s revolting to see him, him, show any kind of tenderness to anyone.

Especially to a girl.

“Did you kill my brothers?” Wendy says. “Did you? Did you…have them killed?”

The soft look remains. But he doesn’t say no.